


ephemeral

by fiveyaaas



Series: when autumn comes [14]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, I’ll explain further in the author’s note, Marking, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Spanking, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, they are both consenting but i’m tagging just to make sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26983480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/pseuds/fiveyaaas
Summary: Five liked her lips. The way she’d run her incisors across them when she was nervous, sometimes biting down enough that she’d have a small drop of blood she’d wipe with her shirt sleeve. How her lips formed questions when she needed him to explain something. When she’d run a swipe of that pink lip gloss over them, and they’d smear against her coffee cup- she drank it too sweet for his taste, but he didn’t mind it when his tongue was in her mouth. Oddly, his wariness towards sweet things was promptly thrown out the window the second he was swallowing her moans, a defenestration he couldn’t bring himself to mind.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: when autumn comes [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941919
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	ephemeral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetheartbitterheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheartbitterheart/gifts).



> This is for sweetheartbitterheart, who graciously agreed to reading through this for me to help with tagging. Her fics are absolutely lovely, and I’m appreciative of all her encouragement and support when I need help with fics. I’m so thankful for her friendship, and I’m so lucky to have met her!!! 💕💕💕
> 
> Also!!! I tagged “mildly dubious consent” and “dead dove: do not eat.” They are both consenting to this arrangement and I wrote it trying to be clear that he would stop if she asked, but I tagged it as a precaution because the nature of the arrangement could be interpreted as dubious consent. All of the fics in this series can be read separately, so, if you worry this may upset you, please skip it!!!

Five liked her lips. The way she’d run her incisors across them when she was nervous, sometimes biting down enough that she’d have a small drop of blood she’d wipe with her shirt sleeve. How her lips formed questions when she needed him to explain something. When she’d run a swipe of that pink lip gloss over them, and they’d smear against her coffee cup- she drank it too sweet for his taste, but he didn’t mind it when his tongue was in her mouth. Oddly, his wariness towards sweet things was promptly thrown out the window the second he was swallowing her moans, a defenestration he couldn’t bring himself to mind. 

He especially liked her lips as they opened up in an imperfect circle, body keeled over the dining table, elbows slammed against the wood. The others were either extremely polite or complete morons, none of them even breaking the conversation they had inadvertently excluded her from. Really, they ought to consider her feelings more. 

Five met her eyes, raising his brows and schooling his features into a mockery of sympathy before smirking cruelly as he added another level to the intensity of the toy. She clutched her fork, likely trying to just give her something else to focus on. He knew that she was hearing the buzzing loud and clear between her legs, but none of them would notice at all. Really, it was her face that would give her away, if anything did.

Better lead them off the scent. He wouldn’t want her to be embarrassed.

“Are you okay, Vanya?” Five said, training his voice to be soft. (He didn’t really have to try with her; his voice always came out soft for her, even if she did not love him yet, he loved her. Part of him had agreed to this because he wanted her to love him and part of him agreed to this in order to make her disgusted enough that she wouldn’t. Vanya wasn’t truly the masochist here after all.) 

She nodded jerkily, understanding that if she wanted them to not be clued in, she had to school her features into nonchalance. He waited for her to look completely calm before he skipped from 3 to 5 on intensity, not letting her build up to it. He sipped his coffee, shooting her a look somewhere between pitying and smug. 

“Did you sleep well, sis?” Five asked, knowing the answer to that question already. She had been so tired out last night that she’d curled up to his side the second he’d pulled away from her, begging him to not move until she’d fallen asleep. Once she had been just seconds away from unconscious, he’d grabbed a washcloth and cleaned her up, smiling at the sleepy moans as he touched her overstimulated body. Because her eyes had been closed, he had justified showing all of the emotions he’d suppressed in this arrangement. 

“Y-yes,” Vanya whimpered. “I slept well.”

“I’m glad,” Five said, meaning it. She hadn’t had a nightmare at all last night, which was rare. He didn’t know if it was because she was simply too tired out or if it was because he had her arms wrapped around her. He didn’t know which answer would make him finally content. 

* * *

It had started after months of guilt from her. They’d stopped the world from ending four times over, and they’d finally found relative peace. With each trip through time, he’d grown physically older. His body ached and felt foreign to him constantly, and, without the apocalypse looming over their head, he’d stared at the body in what he assumed to be late 20s, maybe three years off his family. Grimly, he’d thought, _at least I look like I match with them._

He’d skirted around Vanya, not wanting to have a conversation he’d dreamed of for years, for fear that it would end up as awfully as anything else he’d dreamed of for his life that came _after._

She’d caught him, staring in the mirror, touching the skin that had stretched on his arm after the third time around. His body ached with old injuries or arthritis (psychosomatic as it wouldn’t truly come for years) or growing pains. What unsettled him more than anything was just _looking_ at this body. He hadn’t had a vast assortment of mirrors the first time he’d been twenty seven, and his body, somehow, managed to age like he’d been properly fed. He was tall, not quite as tall as Luther, who he’d found out at one point was his fraternal twin, but his growth wasn’t stunted like he’d suspected it’d been then. 

“Five?” Vanya had asked, rubbing her eyes. She had been tired enough that they weren’t filled with guilt. She seemed to realize what she was doing, and the guilt came then. 

She’d moved back, and he’d quickly grabbed her arm, keeping her there because he couldn’t stand to see her leave. 

Vanya’s eyes had filled with tears, “I’ll do anything, anything if it means you feel better.” 

His stomach had dropped, a dark thought crossing his mind. He had wished in that instant he had let her go; Vanya had always been able to know what he was thinking, a result of being best friends when they were young. 

She’d nodded in understanding, and, suddenly, everything he had waited for for decades was _there,_ but it was completely, indescribably, and irrevocably corrupted.

He had agreed, anyways. 

* * *

His hand stroked the angry-looking scratch marks he’d left on her back, wanting her to be tired again so that when he’d perform aftercare she wouldn’t question it. 

She winced at his touch, and he didn’t care any longer. He teleported away for just an instant to gather all the supplies he’d need. She looked up, confused, as he came back, but she easily rolled over and let him take care of the marks, and he murmured that she was doing a good job, internally recoiling as he saw beads of blood. 

_You could tell her,_ a voice remarked in his head. _Have something real. Have something that doesn’t make your stomach twist each time you look at her._

She wouldn’t want something real, though. He couldn’t exactly command her to love him. He couldn’t order her to have feelings that she didn’t have in recompense for ending the world and forcing him to live in the detritus. 

When she leaned into his touch, he let himself pretend, just for a single, fleeting instant.

* * *

He’d started somewhat innocuously. 

Five had lied and said all he wanted to do was train her, at first. She’d been confused, but she followed his order, having agreed to do what he asked when he asked. He taught her everything he’d learned from Reginald and then surviving and then the Commission. Once they’d exhausted his knowledge of combat, he’d started to learn more about her powers. He stopped anytime he saw her eyes would start to droop, and he'd take her to his bedroom and have her stretch out on his bed. Each time, she’d rest her gaze on him, and he knew she was preparing herself for what she’d apparently assumed to be inevitable. 

Technically, it’d been her who initiated. 

He’d woken up, turning around to face her after training the day before. She’d had her eyes screwed shut, unable to see when he caught her working her hand furiously under the covers. 

He’d murmured her name, and she’d glanced up in confusion and then horror, and he’d commanded her not to stop. He’d flipped the blanket up, ripping her pajama pants and drenched cotton panties off, ordering her to keep going while he watched her, slipping his hand into his boxers as he watched her whimper beside him. 

When she had come, trembling, he grabbed her wet fingers, wrapping them around his cock, growling at her to not stop touching him while she jerked him off. 

He’d spent the next week not training her at all, though he supposed she learned a few things about controlling her powers in the time. He’d fucked her in every position he’d done with the nameless brunettes he’d take to bed during the his days in the Commission, then he’d let her climb on his lap and fuck him while she looked down at him, something he hadn’t allowed anybody else before her. When she was moving up and down on his cock, panting loudly, he found he didn’t mind her having control at all. 

He hadn’t told her that, though. He’d bent her over his lap and spanked her and told her that he was the one who was in control there until she agreed with him.

* * *

His hand covers her mouth. It’s been almost two years into this arrangement. She’s close, he knows, can feel her starting to clench around him. He’d seen her earlier running her fingers over the equations on his wall, settling down into his desk chair before realizing he’d been watching her from the open door to his room, moving away sheepishly and blushing. 

Now, he moves his hand from her mouth to better grip on the desk, slightly unbalanced in his euphoria. 

“You like getting fucked here, Vanya?” Five growls. She nods shakily, and he settles his other hand, the one that had an Umbrella-shaped tattoo resting just underneath it, against her throat. He’s not choking her, really, just resting it there really. If she liked, she could speak. He rutted into her roughly, hoping she would. He loved hearing her trying to speak when they were just a few seconds from coming together. She could barely even think in those moments, would be damn near incomprehensible on occasion. 

Not now.

“F-fuck, Five,” she gasped out. “I love you.”

He cries out, spilling inside of her as the words leave her mouth. By the vice-like feeling of her cunt around him, he knew she’s reaching her own release too.

And then they’re both standing still, realizing the words she’d said. 

By the way that little mouth opened up into an _‘O’_ again, he knew that she meant them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Happy day 13!!! 🥳🥳


End file.
